"

"Oh, dear no. I was entirely puzzled,--as I am now--and keenly
interested, but not in any way alarmed. I delivered my lecture with my
usual ease and returned home in the evening. On entering the house again
I was perfectly conscious that the intruder was still there. Last night
I dined alone and spent the hours after dinner in reading a scientific
work in which I was deeply interested. While I read, however, I never
for one moment lost the knowledge that some mind--very attentive to
me--was within hail of mine. I will say more than this--the sensation
constantly increased, and, by the time I got up to go to bed, I had come
to a very strange conclusion."

"What? What was it?"

"That whoever--or whatever--had entered my house during my short absence
in the Park was more than interested in me."

"More than interested in you?"

"Was fond, or was becoming fond, of me."

"Oh!" exclaimed the Father. "Now I understand why you asked me just now
whether I thought there was anything about you that might draw a human
being or an animal irresistibly to you."

"Precisely. Since I came to this conclusion, Murchison, I will confess
that my feeling of strong curiosity has become tinged with another
feeling."

"Of fear?"

"No, of dislike, of irritation. No--not fear, not fear."

As Guildea repeated unnecessarily this asseveration he looked again
towards the parrot's cage.

"What is there to be afraid of in such a matter?" he added. "I'm not a
child to tremble before bogies."

In saying the last words he raised his voice sharply; then he walked
quickly to the cage, and, with an abrupt movement, pulled the baize
covering from it. Napoleon was disclosed, apparently dozing upon his
perch with his head held slightly on one side. As the light reached him,
he moved, ruffled the feathers about his neck, blinked his eyes, and
began slowly to sidle to and fro, thrusting his head forward and drawing
it back with an air of complacent, though rather unmeaning, energy.
Guildea stood by the cage, looking at him closely, and indeed with an
attention that was so intense as to be remarkable, almost unnatural.

"How absurd these birds are!" he said at length, coming back to the
fire.

"You have no more to tell me?" asked the Father.

"No. I am still aware of the presence of something in my house. I am
still conscious of its close attention to me. I am still irritated,
seriously annoyed--I confess it,--by that attention."

"You say